Sophie reluctantly nodded.
“I’m also assuming they’ve asked you not to investigate, right?” When she agreed again, he told her, “Well, then it’s safe to conclude that they’ll do whatever it takes to ensure you can’t defy their decision. And think of what they allowed to happen to Prentice in order to keep your location secret. Do you want to risk that your quest to find your genetic family could lead to another similar tragedy?”
Sophie’s heart stalled. “The Black Swan wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t they?” he interrupted. “They know this secret affects their moonlark in many unfortunate ways. And still they’ve kept it hidden. Do you honestly not see that as proof that nothing will stop them from keeping this truth safe? And if you agree with my assessment—as you should—then are you truly willing to say, ‘Hang the consequences,’ and embark on such a quest solely for your own personal benefit?”
Sophie’s mouth was so dry that her tongue felt superglued to the roof of her mouth. So the words came out slightly garbled as she said, “I have no idea. But if I don’t, and people find out I’m unmatchable, how can I be a Regent—”
“Because we say so,” Oralie interrupted, taking Sophie’s hands. “This was a Council decision. All that matters to us is that your team needs you—and we need you.”
Sophie closed her eyes, letting the wonderful words float around her brain before she forced herself to remind them, “But you didn’t know about my match status—”
“Perhaps we didn’t know this specific development,” Bronte cut in quietly. “But all of us have long assumed that there are sure to be many surprises ahead with you, Miss Foster. Not all of them ideal. And still, none of us hesitated to make our oath to you, did we?”
“No,” Sophie mumbled, wondering how this could possibly be the same Bronte who’d been so against her in the beginning.
“Your title is settled,” Oralie reminded her. “Your match status changes nothing. And if anyone questions that decision, you’ll have the full support of the Council.”
“You will,” Bronte agreed. “So I implore you, Miss Foster: Keep this team your focus. And the danger to the dwarves. And whatever else the Neverseen might be planning for Tam—as well as any further assignments we may ask you and your friends to take on. Anything beyond that will be a distraction at best and a danger at worst. Promise me you’ll put it out of your mind.”
She knew what he was trying to get her to commit to. And she couldn’t deny he’d raised some valid concerns.
But the best she was willing to give him was, “I won’t lose focus—and I won’t do anything that would endanger anybody.”
“I truly hope that’s the case,” he murmured.
“It is,” she promised.
Painful silence followed, until Oralie cleared her throat and reached for the circlet. “We shouldn’t keep the others waiting. They need their leader—assuming you’re still willing.”
Sophie stared at the glowing crown, wondering how long she’d actually get to keep it. She wasn’t convinced she could truly count on the Council to stand at her side if the public turned against her.
But… she had to agree that the Black Swan might go to great lengths to stop her from finding the information she needed.
The choice felt overwhelming—until she remembered the leap she’d just taken.
How freeing it had felt to surrender to the Sources’ power.
All she’d had to do was let go and rely on something bigger than herself to carry her through.
So she nodded, and Oralie set the circlet gently around her forehead.
The metal felt cool and heavy against her skin, but she could tell she’d get used to the weight of it. The pressure wasn’t more than she could handle.
“I’m sorry,” Oralie whispered before she stepped back.
“For what?” Sophie asked.
“Many things.” She adjusted a strand of Sophie’s hair. “But mostly for the fact that you’ve needed an ally so many times—and I haven’t been there. I promise that’s changing.”
“It is,” Bronte agreed. “You’re a Regent now—see for yourself.”
Oralie tilted the mirror, letting Sophie study her reflection. And she barely recognized the girl staring back at her.
The pink blush on her cheeks should’ve made her look softer. So should the wavy tendrils framing her face. But the bold lines highlighting her eyes made her look older instead.
Pretty—but fierce.
Different—and proud of it.
And that glowing crown…
“May I?” Oralie asked, pointing to Sophie’s Ruewen crest. When Sophie agreed, Oralie unfastened the clasp, and Sophie’s cape fell away from her shoulders, sliding to the floor as Oralie draped the much heavier silver cloak in its place, fastening it with her new golden Regent clasp and arranging the drape of the fabric so the howling wolf patch hung visibly over Sophie’s heart. Then she stepped back, giving Sophie another moment to study herself.
And this.
This was the kind of girl who commanded attention.
The kind of girl who didn’t care what anyone thought of her—because she knew exactly who she was.
The kind of girl who wouldn’t let anything matter. Not scandals or gossip or frightening responsibility.
This girl could handle it all—and would.
Sophie wasn’t sure if any of that could truly be said about her—yet.
But she wanted it to be.
Oralie nodded, her eyes shimmering as she made one final adjustment to Sophie’s cape. “Perfect,” she whispered. “You’re ready.”
“Yeah,” Sophie agreed. “I think I am.”
* * *
Everyone had clearly been waiting on Sophie for a while when she returned with Bronte and Oralie to the dark, spotlighted room where she’d left Grady, Sandor, Della, Tiergan, and Vika earlier. But she also wasn’t the only one of her teammates who’d had a Councillor makeover.
Stina’s transformation was nearly as drastic as Sophie’s. No giant hair-sprayed bangs—sadly—but her new look might’ve been even better. Something about her peach cheeks and glossy lips and tamed curls had turned Stina into someone who actually looked… friendly.
Her smile even seemed sincere when she spotted Sophie—though the mascot the Council had chosen for the silhouette in Stina’s pink-bordered patch was a kraken. So clearly everyone still had realistic expectations.
Wylie’s dark hair was too closely cropped for there to be much change to his overall style. But the regal finery definitely gave him a much more confident air.
Sophie had a feeling that out of all of them, Wylie would have the most people bowing and curtsying—though she also noticed that one of his hands kept fidgeting with his new golden cloak pin. He probably missed his Endal crest as much as she missed her Ruewen one, which was now pinned to the chain of her home crystal and tucked under her cape.
His patch had an opalescent border that changed colors as he moved, and his mascot was a huge winged lizard—which she assumed was a dragon until she noticed the ridge of spikes down its back and the fact that it only had two legs. She didn’t know enough about wyverns to guess why the Council chose that particular creature to represent Wylie. But it sure made him look cool.
Dex’s mascot, on the other hand, was… probably not what he would’ve chosen. If it weren’t for the two tiny eyes stitched onto the round, fluffy silhouette in the center of his green-bordered patch, Sophie wouldn’t have even known it was a tomple. But the dust-eating poofball actually did seem like a good fit for Dex once she thought a little more about it. Tomples weren’t just adorable—they were useful. And even though they might look cuddly, they also had six spindly insect legs hidden under all their fur and could cause plenty of chaos.
And while Dex’s makeover wasn’t the hilarious Emo-tasticness that Sophie had been wishing for, his hair had been styled with a cute little swoop in the front that really suited his features, and his new silver
cloak made his shoulders look extra broad. His glowing circlet also gave his periwinkle eyes a proud twinkle, and Sophie wished she could be there to see the joy on his parents’ faces when he walked through the door to Rimeshire in his new finery and explained his appointment. She’d known Dex was special from the minute she’d met him—and his family had always believed in him. But now everyone was going to see him as Lord Dex—a handsome, important Regent, and a member of Team Still-Needs-a-Better-Name.
And then there was Biana—proof that some people were born for moments like these. Now that she had a circlet, Sophie already couldn’t imagine Biana without it. And the look in Biana’s eyes seemed to say, I’ve just made my own Vacker legacy, and I can’t wait to show you what I’m going to do with it.
Her overall style was more muted than normal—neutral tones on her eyes, cheeks, and lips, with her hair pulled back into a simple knot at the base of her neck. And yet somehow that made her even more striking. The Council had chosen a kelpie for Biana’s mascot, and while Sophie—once again—didn’t know much about the creature, she did know that kelpies were beautiful and elusive and a tiny bit sparkly. So it seemed like an excellent decision.
And when she noticed that Biana’s patch was bordered in purple, she realized that each of their patches’ colors matched the colors of their spotlights—which made her wonder if the Council had somehow known that her spotlight would be Inflictor red before she’d gotten there, or if their gnomes had set to work as soon as she stepped foot in the Seat of Eminence. She also realized that the jewels in the centers of their circlets were color-coordinated to their spotlights—ruby for her, pink tourmaline for Stina, opal for Wylie, emerald for Dex, and amethyst for Biana.
The Council had truly thought of everything. And Sophie had been so busy studying her friends that she’d forgotten they weren’t the only ones who’d been waiting for her—until Grady lifted her into a crushing hug, spinning her around a couple of times before he set her down and leaned back to study her.
His eyes took in every detail of all her new accessories, lingering the longest on her cape’s patch.
“Apparently I’m not just a moonlark anymore,” Sophie told him, too embarrassed to share the Council’s reasons for choosing her mascot while the rest of her friends were close enough to hear.
“I guess not,” Grady agreed, his voice thoroughly choked up. “You okay with that?”
The best answer she could give him was, “We’ll see.”
He pulled her back into a hug. “How are you really holding up?” he whispered in her ear. “I know this must be a lot.”
“It is,” she whispered back. “But… I think you were right. It’s time to take this step. We’re going to need all the allies we can get to stop the Neverseen.”
He hugged her tighter. “I’m so proud of you, kiddo. Wait—can I even call you ‘kiddo’ anymore? You look so grown up.”
“There’s always Lady Kiddo,” Dex suggested, striding up beside them and earning a chuckle from Grady. “Or you could join the cool kids and call her Lady Fos-Boss.”
Grady’s eyebrows shot up.
Sophie shook her head. “Don’t ask—and that’s not happening.”
“It so is,” Dex insisted. Then his dimpled grin faded, and he reached up to adjust his circlet. “All of this is really happening, huh?”
Sophie nodded.
And as she listened to Sandor lecturing the Councillors for taking his charge into space without his protection, and to Biana telling Della all about her light leap with the Sources, and to Tiergan quietly assuring Wylie that he was so incredibly proud of him—even to Vika promising Stina that she was sure to be the most famous of all the Hekses—she was hit with the rare sense that for that one moment, things were exactly the way they ought to be.
They had a ton of work and drama and problems ahead—and probably lots of bickering and almost dying. But they’d deal with all of it, because they all had one thing in common.
“I know what our team name needs to be,” she realized, having to repeat the words louder for everyone to catch them.
“Oh yeah?” Dex asked. “Hit us with it, Lady Fos-Boss.”
Sophie sighed. “Seriously, that’s not my name.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Dex, Wylie, Biana, and Stina all said in unison, because of course the first thing they’d all agree on would be the need to continue annoying her.
But she’d deal with her title issues later.
For now, she turned to the twelve Councillors and told them. “You wanted something respectable. And we wanted something that fits who we are—”
“And something that isn’t an epic fail,” Dex jumped in, earning himself glares from all of the Councillors. “I’m still particularly fond of ‘Team Dex-Is-the-Greatest.’ ”
Sophie cleared her throat, giving Dex a please-not-now look. “So I think,” she continued, “we should be Team Valiant. It sounds official. It means brave and heroic. And if we want, we can always shorten it to Team V.”
Silence followed, long enough that Sophie started to worry she’d gotten it wrong.
Then Dex applauded.
A slow clap—but still genuine.
And when Biana, Wylie, and—reluctantly—Stina joined in, Team Valiant was officially born.
Biana even made sure to repeat the name a little louder than necessary as they stood on the steps outside the Seat of Eminence, making plans to head home for the night and meet up the next day to discuss all the huge problems they needed to start tackling.
They pretended not to notice the elves that had stopped to stare—exactly the way the Council had hoped that people would. But Sophie could already hear the whispers starting.
“Is that Sophie Foster?”
“And Dex Dizznee?”
“And Biana Vacker?”
“And Wylie Endal?”
“And Stina Heks?”
“It looks like they’re part of the nobility!”
“They can’t be!”
“But they’re wearing circlets.”
“And what’s that symbol on their pins?”
“One of them said something about a team—what do you think it means?”
Sophie held her breath, waiting to hear the answer.
And it made her heart swell, even if it also made her stomach extra twisty and sour.
“Looks like the Council’s finally doing something.”
TEN
WHOA, EDALINE WASN’T KIDDING about the whole ‘Lady Sophie’ thing,” Keefe murmured, making Sophie jump—and then reel on Sandor for not giving her a heads-up that she had people waiting for her in her bedroom.
Sandor shrugged. Clearly he was still annoyed with her for leaving the planet without him—as if the edge of the earth’s atmosphere was somehow the perfect spot for a Neverseen ambush.
Then again, Bo hadn’t warned her about her visitors either.
His white-knuckle grip on his sword—and the satisfied smirk on Ro’s face—probably had something to do with that.
And Edaline must’ve gotten sidetracked by all the hugging and crying and asking fifty thousand questions and forgotten to mention that there were a smirking boy and an ogre princess waiting upstairs.
All Sophie knew was, she was going to yell at all of them later, because now she had to face a Keefe-and-Ro Inquisition while still wearing a crown.
Sandor and Bo were wise enough to wait in the hall.
Keefe whistled as he crossed her flowered carpet and made a slow circle around her. And Sophie braced for a record-breaking amount of teasing. But his voice actually sounded serious when he asked, “Sorry, was I supposed to bow?”
“If you had, I would’ve flung a pillow at your head,” she told him with a grin he didn’t return. “And you can forget the Lady Sophie thing, too.”
“Thank goodness,” Ro said, dropping her feet from where she’d had them propped on Sophie’s desk. “I never would’ve been able to pull that off with a straight face. And, uh
, please tell me this isn’t your permanent new wardrobe.”
“Parts of it are,” Sophie admitted, pointing to her new cloak clasp as an example. “But I’m done with the dress. And this.”
She tried to yank the much-too-conspicuous circlet off of her head, hoping the humiliating way it got tangled in her hair at least proved that she was still the same clumsy mess she’d always been.
She knew she should probably tuck the obnoxious accessory safely into one of the gilded chests that Grady had brought home from the Seat of Eminence. Edaline had supposedly conjured them all into Sophie’s bathroom.
But she didn’t feel like being tidy.
She felt like getting into normal clothes as fast as she possibly could.
“What about that patch?” Ro asked, pointing to the wolf silhouette on her cloak. “What’s that all about?”
“Long story,” Sophie mumbled, dumping the circlet on her bed and stumbling into her closet to ditch her cloak, gown, and heels.
“I like stories,” Ro called after her. “Unless it involves a lot of speeches about how you elves get to boss everyone around because you think you’re so pretty and powerful and sparkly. Then we can skip that snorefest.”
Sophie pulled on a pair of leggings and called back, “There was definitely some of that going on. And a lot of talk about the differences between sunlight, starlight, and moonlight.”
Ro started making very loud snoring sounds.
“You would’ve enjoyed all the horrible team name suggestions that Dex and Biana kept bugging the Council with, though,” Sophie shouted over the abundance of snorts and gurgles. If that was what Ro actually sounded like when she slept, poor Keefe probably had to sleep with a pillow over his head. “I thought Emery was going to exile them at one point.”
“Okay, now I’m interested,” Ro informed her. “And let’s hope Team Fancypants was the winner. Because I can almost forgive you for wearing all of those sparkly accessories if that’s what you’re making your stuffy Councillors call you.”
“Wait,” Keefe said, before Sophie could respond. “Dex and Biana were there?”
Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 8) Page 18
